


Blue Eyes Deep As The Sea [they roll back when he’s laughing at me]

by hateandloathe



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bartender AU, Bartender Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Drunk Keith (Voltron), Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), M/M, basically lance takes care of drunk keith, he has such a soft spot for lance, keith is the biggest grump until he gets drunk, klance, lance is too nice, takes place in las vegas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-08-19 02:00:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20201884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hateandloathe/pseuds/hateandloathe
Summary: “You’ve got pretty eyes,” Keith grumbled, drawing a laugh from Lance.“Are you sure you aren’t one of those disgusting boys trying to take advantage of me?” Lance questioned.Keith shrugged, moving his head away from the other. “I never said I wasn’t,” he said with a bubbly laugh, slumping back into his chair to look at the other.Or, Keith can’t stay away from Lance no matter how irritatingly pretty he is.





	1. The Lights Are Globs

The sound of cheers and ringing filled the smokey casino, along with the constant sound of falling chips. There were showgirls, stood upon the bar and various platforms, dressed in nothing but scraps of leather that barely qualified as proper clothing, but most men weren’t complaining. 

As for Keith, he sneered with disgust, a resting look on his face that made people step away and avoid eye contact. There was something about it that made him smug, his shoulders rested back, his head held high. The collar of his leather jacket was flared up, his hair an unruly mess of black hair. Either sex looked his way, admiring— But never approaching. He figured it was mark on his cheek, or the fact that in dim light his eyes looked black, but held a purple hue in the light. Whatever it was, he really couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

His slender legs carried him to the nearest bar where automated poker and other card games were stationed. He tilted his shoulders, easily avoiding bumping into any strangers. His hands were shoved into his pockets, head low as he stepped to the bar. He took a seat, looking up to be met with an attentive bartender.

“Hiya! What can I get for ya?” the bartender inquired, his brown hair slicked back in a neat comb over. 

He raised an eyebrow, concealed by his long bangs.  He’s quite perky for working at a twenty-four-seven casino. He doesn’t even look at all exhausted.  “Hm. I’d like an Old Fashioned on the rocks, please,” he said politely, though his lips stayed in a straight line even as the bartender nodded enthusiastically and began to assemble his drink. 

The bar he was at was mostly vacant, save for the couple at the end who were basically tearing each other’s clothes off. Grade A classy. Keith scoffed with distaste, turning his head away from them to get a better look at the bartender. 

He didn’t seem to have a name tag, which surprised Kieth. He was amused, realizing he probably misplaced it seeing as the other bartender he was working with had a name tag. His hair was a nice light brown, with tan skin that looked extremely clear in the light. 

“Here you are, mister,” the unnamed member said, sliding over his class with a bright smile. And then Kieth noticed the color of his eyes.  Blue. Didn’t realize how bright they looked against such tanned skin. 

His hand moved over to grab his glads, bringing it up to his lips to take a short sip. His nails were painted black, which only contributed to his dark demeanor. 

“So...” started the bartender, cloth in one hand and a glass in the other, “What brings you to the Green Lotus?” 

It was a simple question, but Keith felt irritated by it. Extremely irritated. Instead of answering, he set his glass down and gave the other a long, hard look. He crossed his arms and set them down on the wood of the bar, his head tilting in a condescending manner. “What’s your name?” he asked slowly, catching the bartender by surprise.

His thin eyebrows raised at the question, his lips parting for a moment before they formed a smirk. “Well wouldn’t you like to know, huh? Walking in here, looking all badass and shit, sit at my bar, ask for an  Old Fashion with your mullet, and think  you can ask  me what my name is?” he said with an raised eyebrow, turning to set the glass he was cleaning on a shelf. 

To say Keith was shocked was an understatement. Never had anyone ever spoken to him like that. And the crazier part was that he wasn’t even the slightest bit mad, but impressed. The boy’s got guts, he had to admit. 

So Keit stood up, chugging the last of his drink and setting a twenty dollar bill beside it. He brought his hand up, his thumb brushing against the side of his mouth. “Gotta give it to you,” he hummed, his eyes locking with the blue eyes. “You make a mean Old Fashion,” he said with a grin, sending him a wink before he was walking off, hands tucked back into his pocket. 

And the bartender watched the retreating figure, shaking his head at the fact that this guy really came for his neck.  He was kind of cute when I look past all the asshole parts,  he admitted to himself. He finished off the rest of his shift, the interaction with Keith already long forgotten. 

—

It wasn’t a surprise when Keith returned to the same casino the next night, drunk off his ass with nearly five grand in his pocket from the amount of gambling had he done throughout the day. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were dark. He wasn’t in a good mood. 

As Keith was making his way to the bar from the previous night, a distracted and probably drunken man bumped into his shoulder. Although it was an accident and completely harmless, Keith felt threatened. His eyes narrowed and his hands were quick to grip the collar of the culprit. 

“What the fuck is your deal?” Keith seethed, his teeth bared, eyes dark and watching the fear flash in the eyes of the strangers. 

“I’m sorry, man!” the stranger exclaimed, raising his hands up in surrender to hopefully calm Kieth down.

But before Keith could get another word out, he felt a hand on his arm, tugging him away from the innocent man. 

“Alright, that’s enough, angry boy. No more scaring customers off,” came a voice, and Keith turned to yell once again, but he came up short when he noticed those blue eyes once again. 

“You again,” he growled, only seeing a grinning bartender who still had a grip on his arm, despite the fact that the man from before had already shuffled off. 

“Don’t be too excited now,” the male said sarcastically, fueling Keith’s annoyance toward everything. “I was just trying to avoid any sort of unnecessary public display,” he added. 

The casino was as busy as it was the night before. If not more because it was late and everybody seemed to want to play the slots so late. (Most likely the men trying to hide their gambling problems from their wives). It was still crowded and filled with the lingering smell of burning tobacco and expensive cologne. 

Keith stumbled as the stranger tugged him along from the bar towards a set of empty tables and chairs. He groaned whenever he would hit shoulders with strangers walking by, not bothering to get angry or offer an apology. And then he felt himself being sat in a metal chair, and he heard a soft “wait here and don’t go anywhere.” It’s not like he could anyway, his head was spinning and the lights across the room were shiny and looked like globs of glitter. 

Time seemed to slow down, and Keith drunkenly brought his hand up, his eyes squinting as he parted his fingers to touch the glittering lights. He was in a daze, amazed by the bright glow of the blinking casino lights. But then the lights were blocked by an approaching figure and he frowned, his hand falling down to his lap, though it look like it fell in slow motion. It was a blur as he looked up, a scowl already on his face. 

“Get out my way. Lights are globs,” he said, his voice lazy and slurred from the alcohol running in his system. 

“Stare at them for too long and you’ll get a headache. Have some of this,” the boy said as he kneeled down in front of him to hand him a water bottle, and Keith recognized him as the same boy from before. 

“No. What’s your... What’s your name?” he managed to ask, his hand moving up to poke his index finger at his cheek. He missed, but at least he tried. 

“I’m Lance,” he said, watching Keith carefully as he unscrewed the cap from the bottle. “Now drink.”

Keith finally obliged, taking a few sips from the water bottle. It was cold and it felt nice since he was so hot and sweaty.

It was silent between the two of them, with Keith taking small sips and Lance kneeled in front of him to make sure he didn’t spill the damn thing. Lance couldn’t help but smile, it was small but it was there. 

“What you smiling at?” Keith muttered, sloppily handing over the water bottle. Lance just chuckled and capped the stupid thing. 

“I’m smiling at you, tough boy. Seems like you’ve got a soft spot to you,” he mused, placing the water bottle on the table beside them. He stayed in his position though, not wanting to move just yet because Keith was giving him a look that made his smile grow. 

It took a few moments before Keith said anything. His eyes flickering over Lance’s face, his chest vibrating every now and again with a small hiccup. And finally, he spoke. 

“Keith,” he said. 

“Keith?” his head tilted. 

“My name. ‘S Keith, but you can’t know my last name because you’re still a stranger. Stranger danger,” Keith grumbled, bringing a hand forward to flick Lance’s forehead. It was no surprise when he missed and instead got the boy’s ear. 

“Why are you so drunk, Keith?” Lance inquired, his hands gripping at the arms of the chair that Keith was in. 

Keith hummed, said something incoherent. 

“What was that?” Lance asked, unsure of what he said.

“Why are you so pretty?” he repeated, this time his head tilting and his lips supporting a smile that looked too charming to be real. 

Why are you so pretty?

Lance couldn’t help the tint that covered his cheeks and the chuckle that left his parted lips. He had never been called pretty. Especially not by an angry drunken man before. Something about it made Lance feel smug, and a bit fond because now Keith was pursing his lips and a gloved hand was making its way to his face and—  Oh . 

“You’re too pretty to work here. Don’t you know how disgusting the boys and girls are here? They’ll call you pretty and take advantage of that blush,” he rambled with a slur, and his fingers finally brushed his cheek, just ghosting over the skin. 

Lance raised an eyebrow at him, lips parting in surprise at the boy’s sudden confession. He could feel his blush darken and spread to the tips of his ears, red and hot. He couldn’t find the words to say anything— And he didn’t have to because Keith was brushing his thumb under his eye, just barely touching his bottom lashes. And with a big, bright, drunken smile, he brought his face forward. 

“Keith— Fuck!”

Keith had pushed himself forward with so much force, he underestimated his strength and their foreheads knocked against one another.

Keith laughed, his hands moving to rest on Lance’s shoulder. His eyes gazed into Lance’s surprised ones, the smile on his face never leaving. 

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” Keith grumbled, drawing a laugh from Lance. 

“Are you sure you aren’t one of those disgusting boys trying to take advantage of me?” Lance questioned. 

Keith shrugged, moving his head away from the other. “I never said I wasn’t,” he said with a bubbly laugh, slumping back into his chair to look at the other. 

Even in his drunken state, Keith couldn’t help but mentally drool over Lance. It was obvious from the day that he first met him, he was attractive. He had intended to forget about him the moment he left the bar... Honestly. But those blue eyes kept flashing in his mind along with the blinking lights of the slot machines. For some reason, there was no way Keith could shake it off. So the next night, he got got drunk off his ass and found himself in the same place. Again. Back to square one it was. Except drunk and with very little filter. 

“Alright, drunkie. Let’s get you home,” Lance sighed, finally standing up and holding his hand out. 

Keith stared at it for a moment, his eyes narrowed at his hand for reasons unbeknownst to Lance. He raised an eyebrow at him, wiggling his fingers to get his attention. It was hard enough to deal with his drunk anger, he didn’t want to stir up even more problems. 

“What now?” he complained, watching as Keith’s eyes narrowed even more. 

“You even have pretty hands. This is despicable,” he growled, his hand moving in a flash to take Lance’s into his own. 

“Come on, grouch.”


	2. Mahatma Gandhi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is nosy and Lance likes it.

When Keith woke up, the first thing he felt was a searing pain that shot through his temples and to the backs of his eyes. He felt like a heavy weight rested on his head, pounding and making his brain scream. It almost felt like the time when he split his head open when he fell off the slide in Elementary school. Almost. His eyes fluttered open, his mind screaming for him to shut them and just go back to sleep.

  


But instead of dwelling on the unbelievable pain, his eyes landed on the heap of blankets and limbs on the floor beside the bed he was in. His eyebrows furrowed, the pang in his head dismissed for just a second.

  


_ Where the hell am I?  _ He thought, his violet eyes scanning the room. His hands quickly moved down to his body, feeling for his clothes and he realized he was in a blue Rolling Stones t-shirt that definitely wasn’t his. However, his briefs were still on and he didn’t feel… Dirty. 

  


He concluded after looking at the figure on the floor that he did not, in fact, have a one night stand. Though, something in his belly was a bit disappointed. Deep down. Somewhere.

  


The next thing his mind drifted to as he sat up, a hand nursing his head, was:

  


_ What the hell happened last night? _

  


From the looks of it, he got completely wasted. Like, completely. That explains the headache and the awful taste in his mouth. That was the last time he’d let himself get too carried away.

  


Then he froze, hearing the sleeping figure mutter about  _ Hunk, don’t give him the last piece… I called dibs on the cookie first.  _ And then he was turning in his sleep, his back now faced the opposite way to reveal his face. 

  


And Keith’s brain nearly exploded. 

  


He wracked his mind for any memory from the night before and he could only recover snippets and foggy scenes. He remembers getting to the Green Lotus. Getting a couple drinks, meeting his friends, winning a couple grand while playing the Roulette Wheel… 

  


Keith groans quietly, his legs swinging of the side of the bed to sit up correctly.

  


He remembers going back to the same bar, bumping into the same damn bartender, and--

  


His cheeks go red, his eyes flickering to the sleeping body on the floor.

  


_ Lance. Oh my god, why am I such a fucking idiot? _

  


Instead of wallowing in his own embarrassment, he observes the room around him. He pushes himself off of the bed, tiptoeing around Lance to look around the studio apartment he was in. It smelled faintly of citrus and a bit of some sort of pine-like scent. Something about it was calming. It kept him from gathering his belongings and leaving.

  


His bare feet made little noise as he looked around the apartment, it wasn’t messy and it didn’t look like it was it had been lived in for very long. The theme could only be narrowed down to a beach-like home. It was kind of comforting. Save for the fact that Keith didn’t know how to swim very well.

  


There were posters of the ocean and pictures of Lance wrapped up in the arms of what looked like his family. They were all beautiful. Had the same tanned skin, pretty blue eyes. Lance was a spitting image of the woman in the picture by the front door. Her hair was dark brown and curly, much different than Lance’s straight hair. He had a nice big family. Keith felt a warmth in his chest just by looking at them.

  


“That’s my mama,” he heard a voice, causing him to jump and hold his hands up in defense-- As if he hadn’t been nosy at all.

  


His eyes fell on Lance, who was still on the floor, but he was sitting up now. His arms were crossed over his knees, a fond smile on his face that made Keith’s eyes widen.

  


His hair was a frizzy mess, sleep still evident in his eyes along with the fact that his shirt was a bit disheveled, but he made it look good.

  


“I- I didn’t mean to snoop. Your home is really nice,” he said, his voice soft. 

  


Lance grinned, his shoulders raising in a shrug as he waved a hand at him. “I don’t mind. Look all you want. I’m an open book.” 

  


He pushed himself up to stand up, stepping closer to Keith who, now realizing he wasn’t wearing any pants, blushed and looked away. He turned his interest back to the pictures.

  


“Your family is beautiful,” he murmured, then added, “No wonder.”

  


Lance stood beside the other boy and instead of asking what he meant, he poked his side. It made Keith curl, his nose scrunching as he turned back to face him, eyebrows narrowed and lips already prepared to say something mean, but-- Oh.

  


“Do you remember my name?” Lance asked, his head tilting.

  


Keith stared at him for a moment, mind racing with a thousand thoughts of Beyonce and how her song Flawless had always been so stupid-- That was until he saw Lance straight after waking up, hair a mess, teeth unbrushed, face a bit greasy, and eyes so blue they basically drowned him. He looked absolutely breathtaking and--  _ I woke up like this: flawless,  _ was all he heard in his brain and he cursed himself because he doesn’t even like Beyonce.

  


“Gandhi,” Keith responded.

  


Lance’s eyebrows knitted together. “Gandhi? My name is actuall--”

  


“No. Mahatma Gandhi. He said, ‘When I admire the wonders of a sunset, or the beauty of the moon, my soul expands in the worship of the creator,’” Keith recited, watching as the confusion on Lance’s face on deepens. A faint smile appeared on his face, enjoying the way Lance’s nose scrunched and his eyes crinkled at the sides. He wondered how someone could be so effortlessly beautiful. 

  


“What does that have to do with the price of eggs?” Lanced grumbled, his arms crossing over his chest and his lips pouting just slightly. 

  


_ I wanna kiss ‘em.  _

  


“Well—“ he paused, giving Lance a quick side glance before he was looking back at the picture framed against the wall. He wouldn’t let himself look into those eyes. Not again. He’d probably say something more stupid than what he planned on saying. 

  


“The night I saw you, I was tipsy. You didn’t have a name tag. You were really nice and I didn’t even want to drink, but seeing you pour me a drink and hearing you say simple phrases— Something about the dim lights and the cheers and— Seeing you, it was like seeing a sunset. Or the moon. Some cheesy shit like that,” he rambled, laughing under his breath and shaking his head. He looked back at Lance, a soft smile on his face when he noticed the tan boy had his arms crossed and his bottom lip between his teeth. 

  


He didn’t want to make a fool of himself, but the warmth and sound of the fridge running made Keith feel a weird boost of confidence. He couldn’t stop himself from saying what was on his mind. 

  


“I don’t believe in God. Or whatever. Seeing you, laughing and throwing around a glass bottle? Something about it made me grateful for whatever greater being there is out there. Grateful for their creation,” Keith admitted, turning on his heel after a moment to continue examining his apartment. 

  


It was silent between them for a moment or two, and Keith kept his eyes averted from Lance’s face, afraid to see what reaction he may have caused Lance to have. It was a habit of his to be blunt, but never was he this affectionate. 

  


Finally, Lance responded. “You came to my bar, shit-faced last night. I was surprised to see you,” he said with a soft hum, following behind Keith who was brushing his fingers against the desk filled with papers and sticky notes. “After the first night we met, I don’t think I thought about you once. But I looked for you in every man who asked for an old fashioned,” he said, running a hand through his hair with a sheepish laugh. 

  


At the last comment, Keith turned to look at him, a fond smile on his lips. He had tried so hard for years to keep himself from making the same mistakes when it came to relationships, but something about Lance made him feel light-headed in all the good ways.

  


“I got drunk last night because all I could think about was you,” Keith said firmly. His eyes met Lance’s and they stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity. 

  


Lance had his arms crossed against his chest, Keith’s were locked behind his back as he waited for  _ something. Anything.  _

  


“Where did you get it?” Lance said after a moment. 

  


“Get what?” Keith asked, his head tilting. 

  


“The scar on your cheek,” Lance murmured, having hesitated because he didn’t want to touch on a sensitive topic. 

  


Keith brought a hand up to his own face; brushing his fingers over the mark he knew took up half his face. He always thought people steered clear of him because of it, but when he looked to Lance, he couldn’t find an ounce of judgement from him. Only a glint of curiosity in his eyes— Maybe even worry. 

  


It was a rough story to even process. The scar was a constant reminder of Keith’s short temper and anger management. It wasn’t as sensitive a topic as it used to be. And part of him wanted Lance to know that. 

  


Lance reached forward, his left hand resting over Keith’s hand, his other moving to trace the outline of the scar. He was gentle, not wanting to push against his skin too hard. 

  


Keith shivered. His eyelashes fluttered at the touch, his chapped lips parting with a sigh. He had never let someone touch him so intimately. He wondered why Lance was an exception. 

  


“I have a bit of a temper. I got into a fight and the other guy had a knife. The end is history,” he said quietly, watching Lance raise an eyebrow. 

  


Lance didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then, “Okay. Now tell me the truth.”

  


Keith’s eyes flickered to Lance’s once more, his eyes wide and filled with confusion. How did he know? How could…? 

  


“How did you—“

  


“You hesitated. So. What’s the real reason?”

  


Keith stared at Lance in awe, puffing out a soft chuckle. Then, he told him the truth. 

  


“I was put in foster care for a whole when I was younger. A couple months shy of my eighteenth birthday, my foster dad came home drunk. Pinned me down and took his knife to my cheek for the hell of it,” he explained. He shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal— Like child abuse was  _ no biggie. _

  


Keith looked away after a few moments of silence, bringing a hand up to brush it through his messy hair. He expected Lance to maybe say something pitiful or sad, but instead, he felt a hand touch his hip. He turned at the touch, eyes meeting blue. A soft smile was on Lance’s face, making Keith’s head tilt with confusion. 

  


“I think it looks pretty badass,” Lance admitted. He brought a hand up to cup Keith’s cheek, his thumb brushing against the mark on his cheek.

  


It was a soft touch. And it made Keith shiver, his eyes never leaving the other’s face. His lips parted with both shock and uncertainty, not sure what he could possibly say.  _ Thank you?  _ As if he would know. Not that he would because he was probably the least qualified person to know what to do in intimate moments like these. 

  


“You hungry?” Keith asked instead, still leaning into his touch, feeling crazy because he never liked to be touched by anybody. But this was different. The look in Lance’s eye was making his heart flutter. He didn’t think he could get enough at this point.

  


“Yeah, I could use a meal. As long as it’s with you. No morning mimosas for you,” Lance snickered, earning an elbow to his ribs that made him bend over with a wheeze. 

  


They ended up  _ trying  _ to make waffles, but Lance had never used the waffle machine and it was new and Keith’s waffle maker was older and not as tech savvy as Lance’s but they tried and they may have burned more than five or six and they laughed and danced. When they couldn't manage to make one decent waffle, they tossed their ugly ones, pulled on clothes, and headed for a Denny’s that was down the street. 

  


And maybe they held hands. And shared food. And exchanged numbers. And shared a kiss when Lance dropped Keith off at his apartment (they couldn’t stop laughing because Lance miscalculated and kissed Keith’s nose and then they bumped foreheads and Keith had to grab Lance’s stupid face to kiss him properly). 

  


And maybe Keith was finally looking forward to seeing Lance again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry for the late update teehee. idk where this is going. probably nowhere.


End file.
